Chapter 1887: Gifting Wine

“The Eighth Sword Immortal!”

Hong Niang shrieked, as if struck by lightning from behind, her eyes wide and fixed.

Hua Changdeng suddenly struck, his finger piercing Xiao Wanfeng’s forehead, almost killing him on the spot. This was utterly astonishing.

Unexpectedly, before Xiao Wanfeng even hit the ground, a tall man, appearing from nowhere amidst the wind and snow, reached out and embraced him. The force from Hua Changdeng's strike was neutralized, saving Xiao Wanfeng's life.

He gently placed the young man on the ground, then stood up and turned to look ahead.

“Whoa!”

Mount Lingyu erupted in commotion. Everyone stared, their faces alight with eagerness, all gazing at the man who had descended like a delightful surprise.

Unlike the dishevelled images that had intermittently circulated across the Five Domains for nearly a decade, the Eighth Venerable One now appeared as if he had shed all dust, completely refreshed.

He was naturally tall and upright, over eight feet in height, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a wide chest, and long legs. Now, he appeared dressed in a silver-patterned cloud shirt under a woven feather robe, a coiled dragon jade belt around his waist, and white feathered boots on his feet. His entire attire was composed of shades of blue and white.

Such light-colored sword robes were common sights in the Five Domains, often adorned with waist jade or gold beads to add a touch of flair. The Eighth Venerable One had none of these. He was simply dressed.

Yet, how could such an ordinary sword robe, when worn by him, exude an otherworldly, transcendent aura that others lacked?

“The Eighth Venerable One…”

“Brothers, it’s really the Eighth Venerable One! I’m so hot!”

Hong Niang completely lost control, her eyes seemingly glued to the tall, white-robed man in the distance. She hadn't even had time to get a clear look at his face; it was just a feeling that captivated her.

The only regret was that the Eighth Venerable One had arrived empty-handed. Neither at his waist nor on his back did he carry a sword; he was utterly alone. Yet, after appearing, he merely tilted his head slightly, rested one hand lightly behind his waist, and silently raised his gaze forward…

The wind howled on Mount Lingyu, and the snow fell fiercely. Amidst the swirling wind and snow, the Eighth Venerable One's black hair and white robe billowed together.

He didn't even make any unnecessary movements or utter a single word. Standing there after rising, he seemed to become one with the snowy mountain landscape, a flawless natural tableau.

“Brow pressed against bone, eyes like wild stars, robes whiter than snow, sword by his side…”

Hong Niang had never met him in person, but her study of the legend of the Eighth Sword Immortal was meticulous, down to the finest detail. Naturally, she could rattle off a few phrases about the Eighth Venerable One, whose reputation spread throughout the Five Domains after the Battle of the Ten Venerables.

She excitedly pointed at the man in the distance, then startled, her hand trembled, and she quickly lowered it. She then hastily used her Golden Apricot to focus on the Eighth Venerable One, brimming with excitement:

“It’s him!”

“It’s definitely him!”

“Although there are some discrepancies with the portraits, it’s 90% similar. This time, it’s absolutely not a fake…”

Hong Niang, of course, knew that many people in the Five Domains had impersonated the Eighth Venerable One. She shook her head and spoke with absolute conviction:

“Even Senior Brother Xiao had impersonated the Eighth Venerable One before; Hong Niang saw it, but he didn’t have this kind of bearing!”

“The true Eighth Venerable One doesn’t even need to speak, Hong Niang doesn’t even need to know him… He just stands there, and he *is* the Eighth Venerable One!”

In the Golden Apricot broadcast, the number of spectators was surging at an alarming rate. Hong Niang's words were so zealous, her tone so absolute, that they naturally drew skepticism.

Indeed, while the man's demeanor was extraordinary, there were too many questionable details about his appearance.

“Hong Niang, I think you’re overcome with desire. How can this be the Eighth Venerable One?”

“I don’t know what the Eighth Venerable One looks like, but it’s been confirmed that he has eight fingers, a scar on his neck, cloudy yellow eyes, and is dishevelled.”

“Exactly. Forget everything else, just count his fingers. How many does he have?”

Similar comments floated across dozens, even hundreds, of broadcast screens on Mount Lingyu. The audience's eyes were indeed sharp.

At this, everyone snapped out of their initial awe and began to notice the details. This Eighth Venerable One had ten fingers! And there was no ugly, large scar on his neck; on the contrary, he was immaculately clean and neat.

“I heard ancient sword cultivators are all secretly vain. Could it be that the Eighth Venerable One knew he was going to make an appearance and tidied himself up?”

He was definitely secretly vain, and he had obviously spruced himself up; even Hua Changdeng could tell. But a simple tidying up couldn't erase old scars or regrow two severed fingers, making them look so fresh and natural.

“Old scars healed, severed fingers regrown. It seems you’ve recovered well.”

Hua Changdeng’s eyes showed deep satisfaction. If the Eighth Venerable One had appeared with eight fingers and couldn't even hold a sword, let alone fight, what would be the point?

“You’re not bad either.”

Amidst the whistling cold wind, the Eighth Venerable One slowly walked forward.

He walked past the fallen Xiao Wanfeng, approached the numerous ancient sword cultivators, his gaze sweeping past the unconscious Xiao Kongtong and Mr. Si Ren, who had a bloody hole in his chest.

Finally, he looked directly at Hua Changdeng, surveying him from head to toe, from man to sword. After a thorough inspection, the corner of his lips slightly curved:

“Heaven and Earth are impartial, treating all beings as straw dogs. Thirty years unseen, Brother Hua, you’ve indeed cultivated to such a realm where you treat the old, the young, the disabled, and the weak equally, all fit to be slain by a single sword.”

The cold wind suddenly became even more biting. All the cultivators on Mount Lingyu shivered. Had it begun? From Xiao Kongtong, to Mei Si Ren, to Xiao Wanfeng… was the Eighth Venerable One going to settle accounts as soon as he appeared?

Hua Changdeng naturally detected the underlying sarcasm in the Eighth Venerable One’s words but feigned ignorance.

“Buzz!”

The Ghost Hunter at Hua Changdeng’s waist began to tremble slightly as the Eighth Venerable One approached, seemingly recognizing his aura. Since landing, the Ghost Hunter, usually silent and still, now seemed eager for action.

Hua Changdeng pressed down on the stirring Ghost Hunter, glancing sideways at the swordless Eighth Venerable One, and chuckled:

“Serious injuries can heal, but you return with no sword to wield.”

“What, do you plan to use your Ten-Segment Sword Fingers against me?”

“Or perhaps after thirty years, you’ve cultivated the Art of No Sword to its pinnacle, ready to unveil profound mysteries with the Dao of Nothingness and give me a surprise?”

The Eighth Venerable One halted, bursting into soundless laughter. A moment later, he surveyed the landscape of Mount Lingyu and the people around him, sighing:

“Heaven and Earth can all be taken as proof; all things can be used as a sword.”

“Whether the sword is tangible or intangible, whether I carry one or not, if I don’t say it, has Brother Hua’s insight dimmed, unable to discern the Dao from the form, the true from the false?”

This…

As these words settled, the Dao rhythm surged around the Eighth Venerable One. But it was only for an instant; that aura, as if one could achieve enlightenment on the spot, completely receded.

Yet, the ancient sword cultivators on Mount Lingyu were far from calm. These words, though simple, were profound, clearly hinting at the possibility of achieving enlightenment if one were to sit down and ponder them.

But with Hua Changdeng and the Eighth Venerable One confronting each other, who among the ancient sword cultivators on the mountain could possibly settle their minds and sit down to seek enlightenment at this moment?

“This is just the beginning, and he’s already pushing so hard? Just one phrase about enlightenment…”

On the various Golden Apricot broadcast screens, tens of millions of spectators watched as the Eighth Venerable One uttered his words, and the surrounding ancient sword cultivators reacted strangely.

Some even had Dao rhythm surging around them, but their Dao hearts wavered, and they returned disappointed, which only fueled the excitement of the onlookers.

“Fight! Fight!”

The crowd loved a good show. Before this, there had been complete disappointment regarding the Eighth Venerable One. But now, after his appearance, everything he presented—his image, demeanor, and philosophical discourse—was undeniably at the pinnacle of current standards.

This reignited a fierce fervor, making everyone wish the two sides would immediately draw their swords and fight to the death.

Hua Changdeng was equally eager. He had prepared for thirty years, giving sufficient time for enlightenment, and had cleared things with the Ancestral Gods behind him. Wasn’t all this “free time” he had created precisely for this battle?

He pressed down on the Ghost Hunter, his body and mind, like the sword at his waist, itching for action. But before he could draw his sword or speak…

“Let’s put aside the sword for now; there is still the Dao to discuss.”

The Eighth Venerable One suddenly flicked his sleeve. In an instant, everyone on Mount Lingyu felt as if the world had subtly changed.

Yet, the falling snow was still snow, and Mount Lingyu was still Mount Lingyu. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary?

“No! This snow…”

Gu Qingyi from the Sword Tomb’s pupils trembled slightly. He reached out and caught a snowflake. The snow was still as pure white as goose down, but after crushing it between his fingers, a faint hint of cherry-pink was visible inside.

“Illusionary Sword Art?”

“It’s begun!”

The Eighth Sword Immortal was proficient in all aspects of ancient sword arts, but which ancient sword art had he become famous for in the past? Naturally, it was the Illusionary Sword Art!

Among the world’s Illusionary Sword Arts, the Sword God Gu Louying ranked first, followed by the Sword Saint Hua Weiyang. Below them, generations had faded into obscurity. It wasn’t until the Eighth Venerable One emerged, his sword art surpassing all for centuries, that Illusionary Sword Art was truly re-established, using the illusory to strike the real, making it difficult for other sword arts to compete.

“Look!”

“A table? There’s an extra table!”

If the cherry-pink in the snow was hard to detect, a skill only ancient sword cultivators could perceive, then the sudden appearance of the stone table…

The stone table that abruptly appeared between the Eighth Venerable One and Hua Changdeng, looking as if it had been there for ages, quickly drew everyone’s attention.

“When did that appear?”

“It doesn’t look fake… Is it conjured by Illusionary Sword Art, or did the Eighth Venerable One pull it from a spatial ring?”

“So annoying! I hate these ancient sword cultivators always messing around with flashy, useless tricks. Can’t they just fight directly? I want to see action!”

Though the images broadcast via Golden Apricot were 99.9% real, the virtual was still separated from reality by an invisible barrier, obscuring the subtleties beyond mere form. Thus, spectators across the Five Domains could not perceive the delicate changes in Dao principles at the scene.

This was even more frustrating! Because with just this one use of Illusionary Sword Art, even ordinary people on Mount Lingyu could grasp something from it. It made one wish they could sprout wings and rush to the scene to watch!

The stone table…

Hua Changdeng stared at it, not understanding what the Eighth Venerable One intended to do.

But while Hua Changdeng remained silent, the Eighth Venerable One was clearly well-prepared. He put his hand into his sleeve, as if to retrieve something, but didn’t immediately produce it.

He deliberately sat down at the stone table, then tilted his chin to the side, signaling Hua Changdeng to also take a seat:

“Brother Hua, having come from afar, you probably don’t know that just half a year ago, Xu Xiaoshou and I collaborated to place the Ancient War God Platform here, establishing this War God Realm?”

“Of course, influenced by the power of Fengdu, calling it the War God Realm is no longer accurate; it should now be called the Ghost Buddha Realm.”

“But regardless of the name, just understand it as a ‘sword array’!”

He smiled and waved a hand, no longer discussing these external matters, nor explaining how there could be a “sword array” without a sword.

He produced two golden wine cups from his robe, placing one in front of himself and the other before Hua Changdeng’s seat. Then, he reached out again, gesturing a second time for Hua Changdeng to sit down, and with a slight flick of his hand, he revealed a jade flask.

“A guest from afar, when I left the Tower this time, though I carried no sword, I brought a flask of fine wine called ‘Immortal in the Dust’.”

“Brother Hua, please.”

At this third invitation, even though Hua Changdeng was inherently unwilling, he grew somewhat curious about the “Dao” the Eighth Venerable One wished to discuss. He no longer rushed. He strode forward, placed the Ghost Hunter on the stone table, and took his seat.

“Why are they drinking wine now…”

The cultivators on Mount Lingyu and spectators across the Five Domains were still confused, but at the moment Hua Changdeng sat down…

“Buzz—”

The mountain scenery vibrated, then shattered explosively, and the entire mountain vanished.

A sensation of weightlessness struck them, and everyone felt as if they were plummeting into an abyss. They quickly tried to regain control, but as soon as the thought occurred, they felt as if they had stepped onto something both solid and illusory.

“Whoosh.”

Ripples gently spread, forming circles, reflecting the thousands of bewildered faces present. No, it was a lake!

Mount Lingyu was gone… Oh, no, it wasn’t gone, it had receded into the distance, becoming a remote scene. The Lingyu and Fusang trees on the mountain, adorned with wind and snow, could still be faintly distinguished when people looked up.

And the illusory yet substantial water they stood on originated from a clear, boundless spiritual lake that seemed to have been placed within an otherworldly dimension of the mountain.

“Where did this world come from?”

“And where did this lake come from?”

“In this icy, snowy place, Mount Lingyu didn’t originally have a lake, did it?”

Mount Lingyu originally had no lake, but if the Eighth Venerable One said there was one, there was. And it wasn’t just the mountain and the lake that changed; it was the very Heavens and Earth!

After Hua Changdeng sat down, Yin and Yang intertwined, completely changing the sky. The night curtain was torn open by dawn, with the stone table on the spiritual lake serving as the dividing line…

To Hua Changdeng’s north, it was night, with snow drifting. To the Eighth Venerable One’s south, the sun rose, and warm sunlight melted the winter.

“My heavens! This realm…”

Initially, the cultivators on Mount Lingyu didn’t notice. It wasn’t until comments started appearing on the various Golden Apricot broadcast screens—some saying a lake had appeared beneath their feet, others that the sky above them had turned from night to day—that everyone realized…

It was then that everyone realized that the Eighth Venerable One’s invisible Illusionary Sword Art had not only altered the topography of Mount Lingyu but also affected various locations across all Five Domains!

“How is this Illusionary Sword Art?”

“This is already a second world!”

“Forcibly carving out half a second world within Hua Changdeng’s Fengdu phenomenon? The battle has already begun, and the first stage is: claiming territory!”

Hua Changdeng did not see this as claiming territory. To describe it as “claiming” would truly be overstating the Eighth Venerable One’s capabilities.

This second world was ethereal and illusory; with a mere thought, he could easily break through this “blockade.” Was the Eighth Venerable One weaker? Or did he have another agenda?

“Gurgle…”

Hua Changdeng sat still on the stone stool, as stable as a sacred mountain, unmoved by external forces. The Eighth Venerable One raised the wine flask high, pouring the liquid, and as he poured, he spoke:

“Other Dao principles, let’s set them aside for now.”

“Before we discuss, I still have one unresolved doubt. Brother Hua, could you enlighten me?”

The wine in the cup was half-full. The Eighth Venerable One was clearly pouring only into the cup in front of him, but Hua Changdeng stared at his own cup, which was also nearly full.

“Speak.”

He lightly tapped the tabletop with his fingers.

The Eighth Venerable One cast a half-smile glance behind him, then, shielding his hand with his sleeve, brought the wine flask closer and said:

“While this battle is indeed one I’ve yearned for, for Brother Hua, with the Three Ancestors watching intently from behind, how can you willingly serve as their pawn?”

“Do they hold some leverage over you?”

Hua Changdeng had not expected the first Dao to be discussed would be the Dao of the Ancestors. These words, however, struck a nerve, and his expression subtly changed.

After speaking, the Eighth Venerable One chuckled, stood up from the stone table, and without waiting for a reply, was the first to raise his wine cup.

As he raised his cup, golden wine cups, filled to the brim, appeared before each of the ancient sword cultivators from Mount Lingyu on the spiritual lake. Lei Shuangxing smelled the wine before him, and his Divine Staff trembled slightly. Gu Qingyi looked at the golden cup before him, and it wasn’t his nose that reacted first, but his evil sword, Yue Lian. Gou Wuyue silently gazed at the liquid in his cup, and the sound of his sword, Nulan, at his waist vibrated with a hum, almost wanting to leap from its sheath.

Astonishingly, ancient sword cultivators across all Five Domains also found a wine cup appear before them. Even Feng Zhongzui, huddled in the courtyard of the Feng family’s manor in the Southern Domain, stared blankly at the golden goblet before him, utterly stunned.

In a daze, the Feng family in the Southern Domain, the Sword Tomb in the Eastern Domain, the Immortal City of Can Yue, and even the various sects, clans, and Daoist schools in the Northern, Central, and Western Domains—all those who wielded swords—heard a faint, ethereal immortal melody descending from beyond the heavens:

“Golden goblet, jade cup, immortal brew; gifted to fellow cultivators in the martial world…”